


Revelations

by Alan_None



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, He gets better, Hurt/Comfort, god this turned out a lot longer that i thought it was gonna be, havve is In the Know, he also gets better, its hard to work on mechanics when you have your helmet on, lmao oops, meouch is kind of a dick, phobos is a good friend, sung becomes sad, theres nothing about that that needs to get better, you know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-09-01
Packaged: 2018-12-21 21:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11952618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alan_None/pseuds/Alan_None
Summary: Doctor Sung finds out that the human phrase "dying of boredom" isn't literal. Commander Meouch and Lord Phobos thought that was obvious. This leads to some arguments, some reveals, and No One is Happy.





	1. Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a fic where Sung cries. I wrote it. Along the way I discovered that I have no self control when it comes to word count, I actually do have a facecanon for Sung, surprisingly, and Meouch is hard to write. And here we are.

If there was one thing that Lord Phobos had noticed about Doctor Sung in the few months Phobos had known him, it was that the doctor was always _doing_ something. Whether it was writing music, fiddling with his prismatic core, or even just reading through random articles on Wikipedia, Sung seemed to avoid inaction like the plague.

____

At one point, Lord Phobos had mentioned to Havve Hogan that Doctor Sung avoided boredom like his life depended on it. Phobos could have sworn that the robot’s glowing eyes brightened just a fraction at his observation, and that the voice in his head held a hint of mirth when Havve responded with “YES, YES HE DOES.”

____

Lord Phobos didn’t fully comprehend the irony of his statement until the day that Doctor Sung ran into the living room, clutching a phone so tightly that Phobos was almost afraid the poor thing would be crushed. The grin on Sung’s face looked almost painful, and he was almost vibrating with excitement.

____

“ _Guys_ ,” Sung said, and importance of his tone was enough to make the room stop and listen. Phobos closed his book, Meouch paused his game, and Havve stopped petting Dangus. They looked over at Sung and waited as he paused for dramatic effect. “Humans are _immune to boredom_.”

____

There was another pause as Sung’s declaration settled in. Lord Phobos shared a glance with Commander Meouch and was admittedly relieved when he realized that Meouch was thinking the same thing. Meouch voiced the shared thought, in his usual eloquent manner of speaking: “Uh, what the fuck are you talking about?”

____

Doctor Sung seemed a little surprised at the commander’s reaction, but caught he himself quickly, chuckling nervously. “Well, I mean of course humans still like, experience boredom, but it doesn’t actually cause them any harm! They don’t get sick, and they can’t actually die of boredom! It’s just a saying!”

____

There was more silence as Meouch and Phobos tried to decipher Sung’s wild hand movements and rapid-fire speech pattern. Havve simply nodded, as if this revelation was something he was already aware of.

____

Commander Meouch opened and closed his mouth a few times, pausing each time before he finally settled on what to say. “Did...did you actually think that humans could die from _boredom_?”

____

“Well, yeah,” Sung said answered slowly. His smile was gone and his excitable bounce had turned into a nervous fidget that only got worse when Meouch burst into laughter, startling everyone else.

____

“H-holy shit dude,” Meouch tried to say once most of his laughing fit was over with. “It’s an _expression_ , dumbass!”

____

“Well, I know that _now_ ,” Sung muttered lamely.

____

“I mean, you’re hearing this too, right?” Meouch asked Phobos, who nodded more out of surprise from being called out than an actual answer, although Meouch took it as one and turned his attention back to Sung. “What the hell even made you think that ‘dying of boredom’ was more than just an expression?”

____

“Well, I know that some species are hypersensitive to boredom, and when I heard someone say it I got really worried and--”

____

“Dude, what the fuck? What species are you even talking about?”

____

“The Orn, the Una’ri, the Phyrax, the Fn’e--”

____

“Just because they can get sick from boredom doesn’t mean they can die from it.”

____

“Well then it wasn’t too much of a stretch to believe that humans could!”

____

“Humans use idioms and shit all the time! Why the fuck did you think that dying of boredom wasn’t one of them?”

____

“Because that’s what happened to my parents!” Sung’s voice had been steadily rising during the conversation until he was finally shouting. Phobos’s eyes widened behind his helmet as everything suddenly clicked into place. How Sung bounced from project to project, his constant focus, even his insistence that Havve, Meouch, and Phobos stay entertained.

____

“Bullshit,” Meouch said, and Phobos nearly gave himself whiplash with how fast he turned to the feline, his mouth agape in shock. Meouch was nearly snarling at this point, his hackles raised and his blue eyes seemed to be glowing. Phobos had seen Meouch like this only once before, when he was in the midst of the chaos he had caused on Phobos’s home planet. Later it was explained to Phobos that Meouch’s species occasionally went into a state of blind fury, their predator instincts taking over and their logic shutting down almost completely. It was difficult to tell what exactly would set off this rage, but it was a rare thing. Phobos had thought that it was only triggered during battle or something, but judging by Meouch’s state, it was clear that it could happen outside of battle.

____

Commander Meouch stormed over to Doctor Sung, almost towering over him even with the cone. Phobos was intimidated even from a few feet away, but Doctor Sung stared right back, unperturbed by the six and a half foot lion man right in his face. “It’s not bullshit,” Sung spat back, filled with as much fury as Meouch was.

____

“The only species that could have died of boredom went extinct over ten billion years ago, dumbass.”

____

“They’re not extinct!” Sung yelled, and Phobos swore he heard his voice crack.

____

“Oh and how the fuck would you know?”

____

“I just... _do_ , okay?” Sung faltered a bit, biting his bottom lip nervously before turning and making a beeline for the living room door.

____

“Then fucking prove it!”

____

Sung froze in the doorway, a hand on the frame of the door clenched hard enough that his knuckles were white. He didn’t say anything for a few moments, before spitting out a bitter but resigned “Fine.” In one fluid movement, Doctor Sung whirled around to face the other three members of the band and pulled off his helmet. Meouch took a step back in shock and visibly deflated, his appearance shifting back to normal as he slid out of his rage. “Is this good enough for you?” Sung asked, his tone laced with bitterness.

____

“Sung, I--”

____

“I don’t care,” Sung muttered bitterly, tears in his eye. “And obviously, neither do you.”

____

“Sung wait--”

____

“Fuck off,” Sung deadpanned before turning around and leaving the room as fast as he could.

____


	2. Explanation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meouch has regrets. Havve sighs. Sung has three moms. Phobos straight up dies, but he gets better.
> 
> And Dangus is there too I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck this chapter just would not end holy shit.

“WAY TO GO, DUMBASS,” Havve deadpanned, standing up and letting Dangus run after Doctor Sung. 

“I...I didn't know,” Meouch muttered lamely.

“YEAH, NO SHIT.”

Phobos looked between living room door and Meouch and Havve a couple of times before making up his mind.  _ I'm going to go make sure he’s okay _ , Phobos signed quickly. He darted out into the hallway before the others could protest. He wandered upstairs and sent out a silent prayer that Sung had gone into his room and hadn't gone to hide in a pocket dimension or somewhere equally as hidden. 

It seemed that his gods had decided to be generous for once, and Lord Phobos gave a silent thank-you when he spotted the door to Sung’s bedroom open, albeit just a smidge. The Doctor had made a habit of refusing to close the door when his bedroom was occupied. “In case anyone needs me!” was Sung’s reasoning, but Phobos was never really comfortable entering the personal spaces of others. Even now he hesitated, still unsure, but the memory of the hurt in Sung’s voice gave him the courage to knock on the door, three sharp notes made in quick succession, and let himself in. 

Phobos had expected Sung’s bedroom to be neat and organized, but he wasn't really surprised with what lay before him. There were innumerable knickknacks and small objects strewn haphazardly across the room, covering every surface except, surprisingly, the floor itself. There was one desk with countless little bits of machinery and electronics stacked high, another desk was littered with sheet music in all stages of use, a few dressers and shelves full of miscellaneous things. Sung’s keytar hung on the wall, Sung’s talkbox lay on a nightstand, Sung’s cat sat on the bed, and the doctor himself was curled up next to the bed, hugging his knees to his chest and staring wide-eyed up at Phobos looking to all the galaxy like a scared wild animal. His gaze followed Phobos as he made his way over to the bed and sat down next to Sung, taking in his appearance.

Without the added height of the cone, Sung was actually  a few inches shorter than Phobos. He was shaking a little, the blues of his one iris swirling and shifting frantically even as he managed to keep an unblinking stare. The brightly glowing, golden freckles littered across Sung’s cheeks and nose pulsated faintly, presumably in time with the beat of Sung’s heart(s?). He had brown hair, messily cut short as if he had done it himself ( _ And gods _ , thought Phobos,  _ it must have been millennia since someone else cut his hair _ ) and it was slick and pressed flat against his head from wearing Sung wearing the cone for as long as he did. And his ears—

“Phobos?”

Sung’s quiet voice snapped Phobos out of his thoughts, and he flushed a little under his helmet when he realized that he had been staring for what was probably an uncomfortable amount of time. Phobos reached over and paused, his palm hovering over Sung’s head, a silent question in the air. Sung nodded once, and Phobos ran his fingers through Sung’s hair. It was softer than it looked, much softer than Meouch’s scraggly mane, but it wasn’t necessarily silky like Phobos’s hair was. Bits stuck together in small tufts, and Phobos imagined that it would be more fluffy when it was dry.

“You need a haircut.”

Sung gave a wet chuckle before widening his eye. “Wait, but your vow—”

Phobos took a deep breath, leaning back against bed. “My vow of silence was made to mourn a culture that has been dead for a long time, and simultaneously will not be destroyed for millennia.” He looked over at Sung. “Right now, you’re more important than mourning a species that isn’t yet extinct.”

Sung stared for a few moments, mouth agape, before he lunged at Lord Phobos with such force that he was knocked to the ground. It took Phobos a second to realize that Sung was hugging him—although clinging was probably a better term. Phobos carefully wrapped his arms around Sung, tracing a gentle circle around the vertebra at the base of Sung’s neck. It was something his mother would do to comfort Phobos when he would cry as a child. At the very least, the motion seemed to make Sung comfortable enough to cry, if his shaking shoulders and occasional sniffle was any indication.

Phobos wasn’t sure how long he and Sung stayed like that, but it was at least an hour or so, probably longer. Eventually Sung’s erratic breathing slowed to a more calmer pace. Even after Sung had stopped crying, neither of them moved for a few minutes. Dangus ended up being the one to break the spell as he gently swatted Sung’s shoulder with his tail, meowing loudly. When Sung’s shoulder started to shake again Phobos wanted to yell at the cat, but the voice in died in his throat when he heard soft laughter bubbling up out of Sung. He pushed himself up and off of Phobos, scratching Dangus with one hand and helping Phobos up with the other. “Sorry about that,” he said.

Phobos shook his head. There was nothing Sung needed to apologize for. He reached over and ruffled Sung’s hair. “...You need a haircut,” he said, standing up.

“Huh?” Sung blinked, his freckles glowing brighter in what Phobos assumed was the equivalent of blushing for Sung’s species. “I don’t—I just cut it the other day!”

“Didn’t do a good job,” Phobos said off-handedly, heading over to one of Sung’s desks. “Where are your scissors?”

“Third drawer—wait,  _ you’re _ going to cut my hair?”

Lord Phobos nodded and, having found the scissors, dragged both Doctor Sung and a chair over into the attached bathroom, setting Sung in the chair in front of the mirror. “Hold this,” he said, taking off his helmet and handing it to Sung. “Need to be able to see,” he explained at Sung’s questioning look. Taking a quick glance around the bathroom and noting that it was just as messy as the rest of Sung’s space, Phobos grabbed a towel, draped it over Sung’s torso, and got to work.

“Where did you learn to give haircuts?” Sung asked after a moment of silence.

“On my planet, there isn’t—wasn’t—well I guess in this time I can use the present tense?” Phobos knew he was rambling, but he hadn’t spoken in months, so he supposed a little practice didn’t hurt. “Anyways, hairdressing isn’t really a thing? Not as a profession like it is here on Earth, but cutting and styling hair is just a skill everyone learns like cooking or cleaning. Typically you take care of your own hair and your children's hair, but my parents were often out on important diplomatic matters, so I was generally tasked with taking care of my younger sisters. I guess I had a lot of practice giving haircuts,” Phobos shrugged.

“You had sisters?”

Phobos nodded. “Three little sisters.”

“...I didn’t have any siblings,” Sung said quietly, staring down at the golden helmet in his lap. “It was just me and my moms.”

Phobos paused every so briefly, halfway through cutting the tuft of hair between his fingers. Sung...didn’t talk about his past. Ever. He was incredibly open, willing to share anything with his new bandmates, as long as it wasn’t related to his past. Anytime Lord Phobos or the Commander would inquire about it, Doctor Sung would always manage to change the subject. “...What were they like?” Phobos asked quietly, hoping that Sung would actually answer for once.

Sung didn’t say anything at first, and Phobos was afraid that his question had crossed some line but then Sung took a deep breath and spoke.

“So uh, unlike a lot of species, mine needs three individuals to reproduce. I’m not going to go into specifics, since I, uh, don’t really know all that much about it, to be honest,” Sung gave a small chuckle, but there wasn’t much heart in it. He stared down at Phobos’s helmet, picking at the paint absentmindedly as he continued. “I was born, um, sometime around the Big Bang I think? I don’t actually know how old I am though; time travel kinda fucks stuff up like that you know? But anyways it was um, really nice for a while. It was just me and my moms. They were really good with like, making sure I was entertained and stuff. And they never really argued with each other or anything, which I guess was really nice. Mom would make sure that I knew about our species and everything—god, she was the best storyteller! She could paint the most beautiful pictures with her words, and she could perfectly imitate any sound or voice. She was really amazing,” Sung sighed, hugging the helmet to his chest. “And then Maman—she was the toughest person I’ve ever met! She was super strong but also like, soft, I guess? Like, the few times that something tried to attack us, Maman would immediately stand in front of us and make sure my other moms and I didn’t get hurt. It was incredible, how she would fight. I’ve never seen anything like it! I’ve tried to replicate her style, but I’ve never been able to get it exact. Mom and Mother would try and hide me away when Maman fought, so I was never able to really study Maman’s movements. A-and Mother,  _ god, I— **fuck** _ !” Doctor Sung stopped himself, taking a deep, shaky breath before continuing in a language that Lord Phobos had never heard before. It was ancient, primordial, melodious and yet eldritch in a way that felt that it was meant to be heard in another universe, and it  _ burned _ .

The very first note tore through Phobos like a thousand-toothed saw. His vision went black—or maybe it went white? Phobos wasn’t anywhere near cognizant enough to recognize the difference. He was more preoccupied with the  _ pain _ ripping through his body, grasping for his soul like a pack of ravenous wolves. Everything felt  _ wrong _ , every nerve in his body howled and wailed and screeched, he felt every subatomic particle in his very existence be crushed and yet he felt absolutely nothing at all. He was being torn apart by the very fabric of the universe. He never existed in the first place. He was both, and yet he was neither.

And then, without warning, he was very suddenly aware of himself. The dark grey linoleum of the bathroom floor was cold against his back, and his entire form felt fuzzy and not entirely real. The bright white glow of the ceiling fixture burned in his eyes, but thankfully it was partially blocked by the  _ incredibly _ concerned face of Doctor Sung, who gave a deep sigh of relief when Phobos’s gaze flickered towards him. “Oh thank god,” Sung muttered, his voice raw with relief. “I, uh—is it—are you okay?”

Phobos blinked slowly, still trying to process what happened. The tile was so, so cold, and Phobos barely had time to register that it wasn’t the floor that was cold but rather his body that was burning before his reflexes kicked in and he lurched up, scooted over to the toilet, and retched.

Phobos was vaguely aware of a frantic “Fuck!” and the sound of running water behind him, but Phobos was worried about other things, like  _ what the actual goddamn fucking shit just happened _ , which he managed to spit out once his retching fit was over and Sung had put a pleasantly cool wet towel against his burning neck.

“I’m sorry!!” Sung said frantically, the colors flashing brightly in his iris. “It’s just—none of the Earth languages really have the right words to properly convey to you what Mother was like, and neither does your language and it’s been so long since I used my own language that I completely forgot what it does to everyone else and I just—”

“Sung,” Phobos said simply, holding up a hand and Sung froze, pressing his lips tightly together. Phobos took a breath, steadying himself and leaning against the tub. “Continue your story. But uh, completely in English this time, maybe?”

Sung sighed, leaning against the bathroom sink. “Right, right. I, um—I was—yeah, Mother. Yeah.” He was quiet for a few moments before speaking up again. “Well uh, like I said, Mother was kind of. Um. There’s not really a way to describe her in any language that you’d know but I think like, extraordinary is somewhat okay? She...she sung to me, as a kid. And those are my favorite memories, you know? When Mother would sing. I remember telling her once that I wanted to sing like she did when I grew up, but because I was a little kid, words weren’t really my strong suit and I ended up saying ‘sung’ instead of ‘sing’ and all of my moms just laughed and I think it was Maman who started calling me Sung and it stuck, I guess,” Sung gave a soft laugh and looked up at the ceiling. “It wasn’t long after that, when things got bad. I was barely old enough to take care of myself, and well. There’s only so many songs you can sing before you run out and the old ones start getting boring. The same goes with stories and battles too, I guess. One day I woke up and they were just...gone.

“I knew what happened immediately. They had left me before, but I still  _ felt _ them. That day it was like nothing was there. There was this space where I should’ve felt them, where I had  _ always _ felt them, but it was just empty. And it  _ hurt _ , you know? Like, I can’t help but feel like I should have done something. I keep going through the memories, trying to figure out how I could’ve been better, more entertaining, more engaging, but I can’t do anything now. It’s been so long that I can’t even go back, my core, it—it can’t handle the energy that it would take to go back over 13 billion years. There’s nothing that I can do, nothing that I  _ did _ do, so I figured, you know, if I couldn’t save my parents from boredom, maybe I could save other people from boredom?”

“Which is why you came after us,” Phobos said slowly as things started clicking into place.

Sung looked over and nodded, a hint of a smile on his face. “I searched the galaxy looking for the best guitarist, bassist, and drummer, and well. I ended up finding my best friends, too.”

Phobos broke into a grin, reaching over and ruffling Sung’s hair. Sung sputtered, his freckles flashing brightly as he swatted a laughing Phobos away. Phobos’s laughter was infectious, and Sung quickly found himself joining in.

“I finished with your hair, by the way,” Phobos mentioned once they stopped laughing.

“Oh! Uh, thanks! You really didn’t have to do that,” Sung shook his head. “And uh. Thanks for listening, too. I’ve...never actually told anyone before.”

“I thought Havve knew?”

“Well, Havve just knows  _ what _ I am. I couldn’t exactly work on him with the helmet on, and he just kinda connected the dots. He doesn’t know the entire story.”

“Neither does Meouch.”

Sung frowned, looking away. “Yeah, he uh, he doesn’t know. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

Sung didn’t say anything for a bit. “...Not right now. Maybe later.”

It was Phobos’s turn to frown. “You have to tell him, Sung. He should know. Maybe not everything, but he’s in the band, too. He should at least know why.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell him,” Sung said in a tone that definitely did not confirm anything. “Just, give me a while, okay?”

Phobos sighed. At least it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I uh. I don't know where that thing about Sung speaking in another universe came from. I literally have no idea. It just fucking happened I have absolutely no explanation for that.
> 
> Next chapter: Sung and Meouch make up in a way that I literally have not planned at all it might take a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> I have two more chapters planned I swear I'm almost done with chapter 2


End file.
